Dance With Me
by Timeless A-Peel
Summary: Third in a series. Gambit takes a partner. Purdey finds her rhythm. Complete.
1. The Search

Dance With Me

by J. Ferguson a.k.a. Timeless A-Peel

Gambit takes a partner. Purdey finds her rhythm.

Disclaimer: I don't own _The New Avengers,_ nor the characters of Steed, Gambit, and Purdey. They belong to The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. This story is written for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended.

Timeline: Third in a series. Takes place in late February/early March, 1976, ending with the pre-credits events of the episode "Gnaws." Pre-series, with "The Eagle's Nest" taking place in April, 1976. It is recommended, but not essential, that you go back and read "Aftermath" (now updated) before reading this story.

Author's Note: The next story in the arc, this one was written to help explain why Purdey seems more familiar with Gambit than Steed in "The Eagle's Nest." While Gambit seems to have access to her flat and tips her playfully out of bed, Steed still hasn't seen Purdey fight, and knows nothing of her time in the Royal Ballet. The only explanation I could come up with was that, after Purdey's initial assignment, with Steed and Gambit, which will hopefully be recounted in another story, she had reason to spend a good deal of time with Gambit alone. So this is meant to fill in some of the gap between Steed's birthday in February and "The Eagle's Nest" in February, while at the same time exploring Purdey and Gambit's relationship as it develops. I hope everyone enjoys it.

For more information about the series, please see my profile.

* * *

"Right, I'll see you on Monday," Spence told the assembly of young agents. "Then I'll really put you lot through the wringer." He grinned diabolically, and a smattering of nervous laughter echoed in the gym before the group dispersed. Spence beckoned to one distinctive silhouette trailing behind the crowd, and she broke away from her peers to join him.

"Purdey," he began as the willowy blonde joined him, "I can't help but notice that you haven't signed up a partner for the course yet."

Purdey nodded. "That's right."

Spence raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you can't find anyone willing to work with you? I would have thought you'd be the first in line to sign up with one of the others."

Purdey grinned. "Ah, but it's not one of the others I'm planning on."

Spence's eyebrow climbed even higher. "A more experienced agent?"

"Why not? There's no law against it."

"No, but it's bloody difficult getting an agent to run the course the first time, let alone a second voluntarily," Spence pointed out skeptically. "There's a good chance he won't agree."

"He will," Purdey said with confidence. "I just haven't asked him yet."

"Well, do it soon. You'll need to bring him in on Monday for the orientation," Spence reminded, still looking unconvinced.

"He'll be there." Purdey smiled and waved as she left the gym. Spence shook his head and grinned to himself. Whoever Purdey roped in, he wouldn't refuse for long. She was the sort of girl who got exactly what she wanted, by hook or by crook.

Purdey wandered out into the Ministry corridor, put a finger to her lips in thought. She had to admit she didn't have the slightest idea where her would-be partner was, or where to start her search. But there was someone who might.

* * *

John Steed was at his desk. It came as a surprise to some to learn that he had one. For that matter, it came as a surprise to _him_ that he had one. But some time during that bureaucratic shuffling in '73, someone had thought it essential that John Steed have an office, whether he wanted one or not. So it had been foisted on him, along with something he suspected was a promotion, and a handful of responsibilities. It didn't mean he spent too much time in the place, but on occasion it proved necessary. Today was one of those occasions. _Ah, well_. He'd had worse times, but it was a pleasant distraction when the knock came.

"Come in," he greeted cheerfully, doing his best to appear engrossed in his paperwork for the benefit of the bureaucrat he assumed was checking in on him. They had a habit of making the rounds, particularly when reports were due. When Purdey's blonde head poked in, Steed abandoned all pretext of working, glad for the pleasant diversion. _Very pleasant, indeed_.

"Purdey! Wonderful to see you! Please, have a seat." He gestured to one of the chairs in front of the desk. "Our paths haven't crossed in awhile. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Purdey grinned as she crossed to one of the chairs, crossing her legs decoratively as she sat. "I came to ask for your help, but from the looks of things I should be the one offering assistance."

Steed frowned. Purdey pointed her chin at his paperwork. "Never thought of you as the sort to be chained to a desk, Steed."

"I don't make a habit of it, if I can help it," Steed contradicted. "Unfortunately, this was one of those times when I couldn't."

"Should I come back later?"

"Nonsense. I'm never too busy to assist a lady. What do you need?"

Purdey leaned forward conspiratorially. "Information." She waited for Steed to lean in as well, before glancing from side to side. "I'm looking for someone," she hissed.

Steed raised an eyebrow. "You're on assignment?"

"Of sorts." Purdey leaned back in the chair again. "I need a partner for the obstacle course."

Steed frowned. "I wouldn't have thought that would be a problem in your case. Surely someone…"

"Lots," Purdey confirmed, "but I was hoping to snag someone outside of my training course."

"Anyone in particular?"

"Gambit." Purdey smiled. "If you think you can spare him."

Steed smiled back. "I'd worry more about Gambit sparing Gambit, if I were you, but you're welcome to him. I don't have anything for him at the moment. If you can find him…"

"Thank you, but that's the problem," Purdey explained in frustration. "_I don't know where he is_. I've tried calling his flat a couple times, but he's never in. I thought he'd be easier to track down here, but I haven't seen him in weeks. Do you know where he might be?"

Steed let out a long breath. "That's a very good question. Gambit's very good at disappearing if he has the urge."

Purdey frowned. "Why would he want to disappear?"

"Several reasons. At the moment, likely because he's overdue for his medical, and Kendrick's patience is running thin. Not to mention he's late with his last report, and McKay's similarly unamused. But you might try the file rooms. He spends a good deal of downtime there, when he's on call. Or the secretary pools."

Purdey rolled her eyes. "I should have come up with that one on my own," she said ruefully. "Anywhere else?"

"I'm afraid nothing comes to mind, Purdey. I'm terribly sorry."

"Don't worry," Purdey demurred, already rising to her feet. "I'll find him."

"Good. Let him know that his report is due, will you?"

"Will do."

"And Purdey?"

She paused at the door. "Yes?"

"My offer still stands. When you do pass the obstacle course, I'll be glad to work with you again."

She smiled broadly. "You won't be the only one," she said knowingly, thinking of Gambit's expression when Steed had initially made the offer a few months before. "Bye, Steed."

"Good-bye." Steed sighed and went back to his paperwork. Purdey's visit had only taken up five minutes. He wondered vaguely if 10:30 was too early for lunch.

Purdey, meanwhile, stood in the corridor outside Steed's office, wondering where to begin her search. The file rooms seemed a good bet, and there was one not far from her current location. She made her way down the hall.

* * *

"No, I'm afraid Mr. Gambit hasn't been here for a few weeks," Finder, the elderly gentleman in charge of the archives block by the Morse centre, informed her. "Although he's welcome. Cleans out some of the older files. They get rather dusty after ten or fifteen years."

Purdey sighed. "And you've no idea where he is?"

"I'm sorry, dear lady, but I can't help you."

"Thank you anyway," Purdey said, already turning to leave. She was so caught up in her thought about where to seek out Gambit next that she nearly colliding with a man entering the file room.

"Sorry," George Radcliffe exclaimed, pulling back just before he lost his balance completely and tumbled into the girl. "Just goes to show I should watch my step and not the operators, eh?" He gestured toward the row of Morse decoders, all women, visible through the file room windows.

Purdey smiled. "No harm done," she demurred, stepping out of George's way to let him pass. He was already well inside when a sudden thought struck her. Gambit had mentioned Radcliffe to her once in passing. Perhaps he knew something…

"Mr. Radcliffe," she called after the agent, hurrying over, "do you know where I can find Gambit? I've been looking, but he seems to have disappeared."

George sucked his teeth. "That's a tough one. Mike is very good at staying at large if he doesn't want to be found. And if he's due for a check-up, or anyone wants him to fill out paperwork, you might not see him for weeks."

"I'm sensing a trend," Purdey commented dryly. "Well, I'm looking for him, too, so I suppose he'll go to ground for good when news gets around." She crossed her arms in frustration. If she didn't find Gambit in time, she was going to be in serious trouble concerning her course. There were always substitutes, but, well, it wouldn't be the same.

Radcliffe smiled at her knowingly. "That's where you're wrong. If Mike knew you were looking for him, he'd be here before you could say 'Martinis at my place.' But I think I can help. You see, I'm privy to some rather privileged information."

"Oh?" Purdey raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, there's a new toy out—a handgun. They're running tests down in the shooting range. Now you didn't hear it from me, but I wouldn't be surprised if Mike was down there putting it through its paces."

"The shooting range." Purdey grinned. "Thank you."

"I live to serve." Radcliffe treated her with a mock bow and watched her go with a fond smile. The course was hell, but with Purdey it would be likely the nicest hell Mike Gambit had ever been through. _Lucky bugger_, he mused, and turned to talk to Finder.


	2. Found

Dance With Me

by J. Ferguson a.k.a. Timeless A-Peel

Gambit takes a partner. Purdey finds her rhythm.

Disclaimer: I don't own _The New Avengers,_ nor the characters of Steed, Gambit, and Purdey. They belong to The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. This story is written for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended.

Timeline: Third in a series. Takes place in late February/early March, 1976, ending with the pre-credits events of the episode "Gnaws." Pre-series, with "The Eagle's Nest" taking place in April, 1976. It is recommended, but not essential, that you go back and read "Aftermath" (now updated) before reading this story.

For more information about the series, please see my profile.

* * *

Purdey made her way downstairs to the Ministry's indoor target range, the first place every weapon was tested before it was added to the Ministry's official armoury. It was an arduous process—indoor tests, then the outdoor range, then the target range with the dummies, not to mention heaps of lab tests and simulations. The guns had to be tested in every eventuality for any quirks. If they went haywire at a crucial moment, such an eventuality could mean the difference between life and death. Purdey had volunteered once or twice for testing duty. After all agents, not lab techs, were going to be using the things, so they were perfect subjects. And getting volunteers was never difficult when every young man in the Ministry's employ was clamouring to try out the latest toy on offer. Gambit was obviously a member the eager, willing ranks. Somehow, it didn't surprise her.

There was always a guard at the door to the range, posted to keep people from wandering in and finding themselves at the wrong end of the range and acquiring a few extra holes to breathe through in the process. Not to mention the importance of keeping the weaponry out of untrained hands—clerks, backroom boys—who might get the idea that "point and shoot" was all the instruction they needed to impress the pretty young girl from files.

Purdey pointed at her ID clipped to her dress, and the guard smiled and let her in. She found herself in the outer sanctum, a sort of Spartan white lobby with a wicket at which agents signed in, specified which weapons they intended to test, and received a pair of earmuffs to preserve their hearing in the echoing chambers, along with goggles for eye protection. Some of the newer recruits insisted, with a healthy dose of bravado, that they didn't need to take precautions, but experience had shown otherwise, and after one too many men trooped out clutching their ears, Dr. Kendrick, tired of agents coming to him complaining of tinnitus, had made protection mandatory. Purdey signed in now, and was automatically handed her lovely green pair of earmuffs and her goggles.

"What'll you be trying today, miss?" the man in the white coat asked.

"Nothing," Purdey told him, casting an eye over the sheet until she found Gambit's name two spaces above hers. He hadn't signed out, so she was in luck. "I'm here to see someone."

"Right, then." The man hit a buzzer, giving Purdey access to the large grey door to her left.

She found herself in a long hallway, lined on the left side only with dozens of doors, each of which led to a small cubicle. Each cubicle had a window that opened at the other end, through which an agent could shoot at the targets in their aisle. The doors locked from the inside to prevent people walking in and accidentally getting a bullet to the brain. Ammunition was placed inside the cubicle through a drop box operated by a technician after the agent had been issued with a gun—all to prevent accidents. People had enough of those in the field. At the end of the hall, a larger, much more officious door, led to the control and observation centre, where scores were recorded and ammunition doled out, protected from harm by a pane of bullet-proof glass. Purdey started down the hall.

Each door had a small, bullet-proof window, and Purdey glanced through each one in turn in search of Gambit. There were quite a few people in the range today, all men, all obviously enamoured with whatever it was that had been introduced. Purdey was halfway through the door, when she recognized a familiar silhouette, tall and slim, stance perfectly steady and balanced. Purdey stopped and watched, not wanting to disturb him as he squeezed off four shots in rapid succession, then straightened up to eye the cluster of holes in the centre of the man-shaped target. All at the heart. Purdey let out an appreciative whistle, before tapping gently on the window. Gambit seemed to ignore her, but then she realized his ear protection would keep him from noticing her tapping. She waved her hand over the glass instead, hoping Gambit would catch the movement in his peripheral vision.

Gambit looked up from the table where he was removing the empty clip from his gun, only to be greeted by Purdey's nose, pressed against the glass while she made a horrible face for his benefit. He started a little in surprise, then smiled ruefully and moved to open the door for the blonde. She grinned at him cheekily, but waited until he had closed the panel at the business-end of the cubicle, effectively sealing them in a soundproof area.

"Maturity, thy name is Purdey," he quipped as she pulled off her earmuffs gratefully, and started straightening her hair. He took off his own pair, but left the goggles he'd been issued for eye protection.

"Well, it's not as if you were in the middle of a shot," Purdey defended, closing her door and locking it as protocol demanded. "I was generous enough to wait until you'd finished."

"You saw that last bit?" Gambit asked with eyebrows raised. "Any comment?"

"Almost as good as me," Purdey allowed, eyes dancing.

"Almost?" Gambit scowled. "They were all dead-on. What more do you want?"

"They could have been arranged a little more aesthetically," Purdey observed, squinting at the target.

"I don't think they worry too much about that in the field," Gambit pointed out.

"Oh, very well. As good as me. Now are you happy?"

"Not nearly as happy as I am to be all alone with you in this nice, soundproof room," Gambit murmured, gaze sweeping over her appreciatively. "I don't suppose you have the same thing in my mind as I do?"

"I'd say that was fairly safe assumption," Purdey retorted. "Particularly when you've got those things on. They don't flatter you at all." She pointed a chin at Gambit's goggled eyes.

"What...? Oh!" Gambit remembered his eyewear and yanked off the article. "Sorry. I forget about those sometimes." He now had some rather deep red grooves where the glasses had dug into his skin, and Purdey chuckled a little at the rings around his eyes, which made Gambit look akin to a rather pale raccoon.

"You shouldn't laugh at someone who's armed," he grumbled, setting the gun on the table. "Now, were you driven to squish your face against windows just for my company, or was there some other reason? I haven't seen you since my birthday last month." A thought occurred to him, and a grin crept slowly over his features. "Unless you've come back for more…?"

Purdey snorted. "Honestly, Mike Gambit, if your head is going to get this swelled every time I give you a tiny peck on the cheek at the end of the evening, I'm not going to make a habit of it. Anyway, it's business. I've been asking around for you everywhere."

Gambit looked very happy at the idea. "Purdey, are you saying you want me?"

Purdey stepped close, so close their lips were almost touching. "Yes, Mike. I want you desperately...to be my partner to run the obstacle course."

"Ah, the truth comes out," Gambit said with a grin. "You just want to use me shamelessly to fulfill your ambitions."

"You're quick on the uptake. I like that."

"What makes you think I'll do it?" Gambit wanted to know, leaning back casually against the table. "It's one month of doing nothing but practice. Most agents barely survive the first time, and drink enough afterwards to wipe it out. So why are you so confident that I'll be willing to have another go?"

"I have a list," Purdey revealed.

"Go on." Gambit crossed his arms expectantly.

"One: you'll have an excuse to steer clear of reports and any minor assignments Steed might have for you."

Gambit nodded in agreement. "Ten points."

"What am I hoping to tally?"

"You'll know when you get there."

Purdey grinned before continuing, ticking off on her fingers as she went. "Two: We're going to be partnered once I'm finished, and you know that it's better if I work with my future partner in the course."

Another nod from Gambit.

"Three: I'm a woman."

"Good point. I'd never have guessed otherwise."

"You didn't let me finish. You see, I know about you and women, Mike Gambit."

"Do you?"

"Yes. In fact, the whole department knows. You have a problem—"

"I resent that. I'll have you know everything's ship shape."

"A problem with saying 'no,'" Purdey clarified dryly.

"Do I?" Gambit's brow furrowed. "Let's see. 'No.' Seems all right. Want me to try it again?"

"If you'd let me finish," Purdey said tartly to Gambit's smug expression. "I meant saying 'no' to women."

"What about it?"

"You can't."

"I can, you know. I said it to my mum many a time. And my Gran, although she always cuffed me over the head for it until I ended up saying yes."

"Smart woman."

"Yes, she was rather quick. You probably would have liked her."

"To clarify, women that you aren't related to. Women like me."

"You?"

"Me. Mike Gambit." She leaned in once more, grasped his tie and ran it through her fingers, gently, caressingly. "Are you honestly going to turn down the chance to leap about with me in close proximity, probably with lots of opportunities for you to carry me and lift me and generally get into some very intimate positions? Surely that fulfills some fantasy of yours?"

"Getting hard to keep track of them all," Gambit replied, enjoying the feeling of Purdey's body so close to his. "Is that all?"

"One more thing."

"Yes?"

"This." And Purdey smiled beatifically--a huge, white, innocent, irresistible smile--and Gambit knew that she had won.

"Not the big helpless smile," he moaned. "Purdey, that's fighting dirty."

"I don't know what you mean," she said sweetly, still beaming.

"All right, all right. You've got yourself a deal." He'd known he was going to agree anyway, but the smile was the last straw.

"Good," she said briskly, and switched her lethal weapon off.

"How did you find me, anyway? Who spilled the beans?" Gambit wanted to know, as she drifted over to the table and cast an appraising eye over the armaments.

"George Radcliffe."

"Traitor," Gambit said good-humouredly. "He was _my_ partner when I ran the obstacle course. I hope you plan to be a little more loyal."

"Naturally," Purdey agreed, picking up one of the guns and holding it experimentally, testing weight and grip. "I want to get a high score. I can't very well do that if I'm sabotaging you, can I?"

"Right, but I don't do these things by half measures," Gambit warned. "I'll push you as hard as I'd push myself."

"Teach me, train me, mould me," Purdey said with mock reverence, putting the gun down once more, and tracing the pattern on the barrel idly with one impeccably–manicured nail.

"I'm serious. You want to be treated like any other male agent, so I'm going to do just that. Which means you'll probably be plotting my murder, or at least wishing you could rearrange my face, by the end of the first week. And you'll be swearing a blue streak in the meantime."

"And you know this from experience?" Purdey asked disbelievingly.

"Trust me," Gambit assured. "But I don't want you to feel bad about it when you do. For one, there's nothing you can say I haven't heard before, and odd the chance I haven't, I'll make sure to thank you for the new addition to my vocabulary. Two." She realized he was holding up a pair of fingers on his right hand. "Whatever you may say, I assure you I've been called much worse. And three." Another finger came up. "I'll know that it's all down to exhaustion and frustration, and that you don't mean a word of it."

"So," Purdey said thoughtfully, "I can say anything—anything at all--and you'll take it with a grain of salt?"

"That's about the size of it."

"And it won't stick?"

"Not a bit."

"You won't take it to heart?"

"Like water off a duck's back."

"You bastard."

"Doesn't bother me a—hey!" Gambit scowled at Purdey's wicked grin. "We haven't even started yet! Least wait till we're on the course and I've done something to deserve it." He glanced at the table filled with all manner of firearms. "Might be a smart idea to wait until I'm not heavily-armed, too," he told Purdey's grinning face tiredly. "You're going to make me grey early. You know that, don't you?"

"I'm sure you'll carry it off very well," Purdey assured, with a friendly tug of the tie.

"Thanks," Gambit said sarcastically, turning back to his selection of armoury. "When do we start?"

"Orientation with Spence is on Monday," Purdey informed. "At eight. Don't be late."

"Want me to pick you up?" Gambit asked hopefully, looking up from the gun he was in the process of stripping.

"I can find my own way, thank you," Purdey said briskly, watching Gambit's strong, assured hands making quick work of the weapon with just a touch of admiration. "The way I'll find my way out now."

"Leaving so soon?" Gambit asked with mild disappointment. "You don't want to stay and watch?"

Purdey grinned wickedly, taking another step toward him. "I'd rather _do_ than watch," she told his priceless downcast expression. "Much more exciting."

"Won't argue with you there," Gambit agreed, wondering if Purdey knew just how much her closeness was affecting his vital signs. Probably. Then she turned and started to walk away, taking her intoxicating presence with her, and Gambit had to brace himself with one hand on the table to keep from tipping over. _Don't think about the boat. Damnit, Mike, you're only making it harder for yourself._

"Purdey," he called, just as she was ready to leave the room. "One more thing."

She raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Whatever happens while we're training," he managed, "don't hold it against me."

She shrugged, as if to say 'why should I?' But Gambit remembered the course. His only hope was Purdey could separate what happened on and off it, for both their sakes.


	3. False Start

Dance With Me

by J. Ferguson a.k.a. Timeless A-Peel

Gambit takes a partner. Purdey finds her rhythm.

Disclaimer: I don't own _The New Avengers,_ nor the characters of Steed, Gambit, and Purdey. They belong to The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. This story is written for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended.

Timeline: Third in a series. Takes place in late February/early March, 1976, ending with the pre-credits events of the episode "Gnaws." Pre-series, with "The Eagle's Nest" taking place in April, 1976. It is recommended, but not essential, that you go back and read "Aftermath" (now updated) before reading this story.

For more information about the series, please see my profile.

* * *

Purdey was dreaming. It was a good dream. She was dancing Odette with the Royal Ballet, and everyone had come to see her. She caught a glimpse of her mother, uncle and step-father in the front row, all upturned eyes and beaming faces. She felt a smile tugging the corners of her own mouth, and the dance reached a triumphant conclusion. The audience was on its feet, applauding as she took her bows, and people were cheering her name.

"Purdey! Bravo, Purdey!"

She shifted happily. The voices of all those she cared about. She could hear her mother, and her uncle and—

_Gambit? _

_No, that can't be right_. Purdey frowned and turned in her sleep. _Why would Gambit be here?_

The answer quickly became apparent when she saw him up front, mounting the stairs to reach the stage. In his tuxedo, which he filled out rather nicely. _Ah, yes, there's the reason._

He stopped in front of her, eyes twinkling. Purdey waited with baited breath for him to say something, anything. To congratulate her. Or give her something to celebrate.

His mouth opened. Purdey held her breath. And then the words came.

"Time to wake up, Purdey."

What sort of thing was that to say? But then her eyes flickered open, and she saw—

Gambit.

"Gah!" Purdey shrieked at Gambit's face, hovering above hers. He straightened up from bending over her bed and watched her with vague amusement, a smile playing about his lips, as Purdey sat up quickly, grasping at her bed clothes in a half-successful attempt to draw them over her chest. Purdey was suddenly very thankful she had chosen to wear a nightgown to bed, as opposed to sleeping _au naturel_. She fixed him with her best reproving look and felt anger and embarrassment mix into a deadly cocktail.

"Mike Gambit, just what do you think you're doing in my bedroom?"

"I'm your wake-up call," Gambit said cheekily. "Hope you don't mind. I thought you'd need one, since today's our first day of training."

"You may not know this, but there's this remarkable invention called the telephone." Purdey said caustically. "For your own personal safety, I suggest you use it."

"Ah, but I thought you deserved the personal touch. First day and all that. Besides, the telephone doesn't come with visuals." His eyes roamed over her neckline appreciatively.

Purdey snorted. "I should have known." Then her brain considered another aspect. "How did you get in?"

"I have my ways," Gambit said coyly, toying with a piece of wire. "I didn't bruise your lock, if that's what you're worried about."

"Well, check and make sure on your way out to wait in the car." Purdey lay back down and covered her head with the blankets.

"Oh, Purdey, Purdey. I promised to pull no punches, and I plan on keeping that promise. It's time to get up, and I'm going to see to it that you're out the door by half past seven."

Purdey blew him a raspberry from under the covers.

Gambit tsked. "You asked for it."

Purdey didn't like the sound of that. "What? Asked for what? Gambit?" There was no response. But then the world started to shift. Purdey poked her head out from under the covers to see Gambit, grinning wickedly, lifting the edge of her mattress. "Mike!" she protested, clinging to the bottom sheet as the world went vertical. "Don't you dare!"

"Why not? If you're going to discipline me, you'll have to pull me in there with you, and that's not much of a deterrent." He waggled his eyebrows at her.

"All right!" Purdey relented. "I'm up, I'm up." Gambit lowered her mattress in triumph as Purdey climbed out of the heap of bed clothes and fixed him with a poisonous stare. "How many cups of coffee did you have this morning?"

"Four," Gambit said cheerfully. "Wanted to be nice and alert for our first day. And I had a bit of a run this morning, too. All for you. I don't want you to get a bad score on my account."

"How thoughtful," Purdey muttered, but she knew Gambit was doing her a favour, running the course when he didn't have to. "Just give me a minute to get changed and have some breakfast." Gambit didn't move. "That's your cue to leave," she added, and Gambit looked disappointed.

"It'd keep me alert," he pointed out.

"Try a cold shower," Purdey suggested.

"With you?"

"Out. Now."

* * *

"Mike!" Spence greeted enthusiastically as Gambit entered the gym, followed by Purdey. "Mike Gambit, you old pirate! Haven't seen you around for ages!" The two men met halfway and engaged in a good deal of matey back-slapping while Purdey looked on with mild amusement.

"Well, I've been busy," Gambit explained, grinning from ear to ear at his old friend. "That leak in Germany wasn't going to plug itself."

"You're getting quite the reputation over there," Spence mused. "Ever since those bullets followed you over the wall, they practically roll out the red carpet. You're not going to take one of those overseas posts, are you?"

Gambit snorted. "And leave you unsupervised? Not on your life. Besides, I've got a commitment for the next month or so."

"Come to work out, then?" Spence queried, eyeing Gambit's black duffel bag.

Gambit smirked. "In a manner of speaking. 'Sign up,' is more accurate."

Spence shook his head. "Mike, I told you, you've finished off all my courses. I haven't been able to come up with any more. Not with my schedule. So unless you plan to enroll with the novices..."

"Not quite, but you've got the idea," Gambit replied, eyes twinkling.

"What, you? Slow day at the office? Or do you just want to put a new batch in their place?" He craned his neck to look at Purdey over Mike's shoulder. "And Purdey, I thought I told you to pick a partner for the course. You'll need one for today."

"I have." Purdey sauntered over and put a hand on Gambit's shoulder. "You're looking at him."

"_He's_ the experienced agent?" Spence looked from one to the other, eyes finally resting on Gambit. "She's not serious, is she Mike? You're not really going to go through the whole thing again, are you?"

Gambit grinned. "I am."

Spence jerked his head at Purdey. "Did she put the squeeze on you?"

"I wish," Gambit murmured, and Purdey nudged him in the ribs. "But I want to see if I can beat my score with George now that I've had some field experience." He pondered Spence's last comment. "Did she say 'experienced'?" He looked to Purdey. "You don't know the half of it," he added wickedly.

"You're sure?" Spence asked, serious now.

"Definitely." Gambit held up the duffel bag. "Even dug out my old gear from last time."

"Hope you've washed it since," Spence said cheerfully. "Bad enough in the locker room without vintage, three-year-old sweat." He shook his head. "What did she threaten you with?"

"It's not her threats that scare me," Gambit said cryptically as the rest of Purdey's class filtered into the gym. There were a few exchanged glances and whispers when they caught sight of Gambit, and Purdey felt oddly pleased with herself at having wangled a senior agent into the fold. Some of them regarded him with a touch of awe, others with jealousy as it became apparent that Mike would be monopolizing her time for the next month or so. Gambit ignored the lot of them, shot Purdey a conspiratorial look.

"I think we've got their attention," he said out of the corner of his mouth.

"Let's hope you can live up to the legend," Purdey replied, patting him on the shoulder.

Gambit's ears perked up. "Legend? Really? What have you heard?"

But Purdey was already heading for the locker room, a small smile playing over her lips. Gambit shook his head in amusement. Spence came to stand next to him.

"She knows better than to inflate that ego of yours," his old friend pointed out. "Hell, I hope you know what you've gotten yourself into."

"More than most," Gambit said knowingly, eyes following her retreating figure with interest. _And I've barely scratched the surface._

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, the class, plus Gambit, was gathered around Spence as he discussed the finer points of the training course. More than a few of the students were eyeing the intimidating spectacle with apprehension, others with overconfidence. Gambit's reaction to the horrors that could befall a careless agent (i.e., humiliation) was unique. "Why are you smiling?" Purdey asked out of the corner of her mouth, mildly disconcerted by her colleague's cheerful expression. "You know this is going to be hell?"

"Oh, I don't know. It's sort of fun in its own way," Gambit replied, ghost of a smile still dancing across his face.

"I see. And how long have you had these masochistic tendencies?"

"It's got its good points," Gambit insisted. "You'll see. And I'll tell you, it'll be a hell of a lot more encouraging to see you waiting for me at the other end than George. Fill out the fatigues better for one."

"Oh, hush. I'm trying to listen," Purdey shushed, and returned her attention to what Spence was saying. The trainer had obviously made the speech before, because he timed it perfectly, finishing just as the group of young agents started to shift impatiently, itching for a chance to tackle the monstrosity before them.

It was quite impressive, Purdey had to admit. Essentially a version of the assault course used to prepare young soldiers for combat, but with a much longer and more convoluted design. Purdey's eyes settled on a maze of catwalks and other perilously high structures, although a fall would end in a safety net rather than several feet of unforgiving earth.

"Good thing you don't suffer from vertigo," Gambit murmured in her ear, and Purdey set her jaw. She had been afraid of heights when she was younger, but she'd weaned herself off of that weakness, and any reminder of it only made her angry. She wasn't certain if Gambit had deduced this or not, but the look in his eye suggested he had calculated the effect and found it beneficial to the cause.

"Just watch me," she retorted as Spence let the group loose to orient themselves. She took hold of the knotted web of ropes and started the climb to the platform above.

"I'm planning on it," came the reply, and Purdey looked down to see Gambit following. She ignored the wink he sent her, and focused on gaining height instead.

It was a long, hard climb, but Purdey was fit, and soon she found herself atop the platform, pondering a rather sturdy-looking wall about eight feet high, and with a sheer drop on either side. Gambit alighted beside her and regarded it with mild interest before turning to Purdey.

"Any ideas?" he asked cheekily.

Purdey scowled. "It's not exactly complicated, is it? All I have to do is get my speed up and I'll be over."

Gambit ran his eyes over the short platform, shook his head. "Not long enough. You won't build enough speed to make it."

"I'll manage," Purdey insisted stubbornly, although she wasn't sure Gambit didn't have a point. "Move over."

Gambit did as he was bid and crossed his arms expectantly. Purdey backed as near the edge of the platform as she dared, rocked on her heels experimentally, took a deep breath, and charged.

She just managed to grasp the top of the wall as her momentum gave out, and she found herself dangling from the wall, booted feet seeking a purchase on the slick wood. Gambit came over to stand beneath her, looked up at the struggling form and then at the frantically kicking feet.

"Need any help?" he offered.

"No," Purdey snapped in anger and embarrassment. "I'll be fine, thank you. I just need a moment."

"Take your time," Gambit said with a shrug, and leaned against the wall, content to prop it up until Purdey either wore herself out or asked for assistance. Or both.

She did manage, eventually, but by that point her pride was dented and a good deal of her enthusiasm had gone the way of the dodo. Nonetheless, she refused all offers of his help, and he let her play it her own way, standing back to watch her tackle the obstacles with a single-mindedness that was both admirable and frustrating. Gambit couldn't be sure, but he thought it likely that he'd never rolled his eyes so many times in his life. Purdey had some learning to do, but Gambit was intuitive enough to know that suggesting it now wouldn't be the best course of action, particularly if he didn't want a high kick to the jaw.

He caught her coming out of the locker room after the end of the session, silently fuming, all gritted teeth and cheeks that were reddened from ire, not rouge. Her eyes shifted wearily as he fell into step beside her.

"Come to gloat?" The words were sharper with the cut-glass accent to back them up.

Gambit frowned, a crease appearing between his eyebrows. "Why would I gloat?"

"Don't play games, Mike Gambit!" Purdey snapped, coming to a stop and whirling on her colleague. "I'm not in the mood. I know I made a less-than-satisfactory showing today, but I'll get better."

"I don't doubt that," Gambit insisted gently, and Purdey felt a little of her anger melt away. "And I'm not here to rub anything in. But we've got a lot of work ahead, and I thought you might appreciate one last night out before we buckle down."

"What sort of night out?" Purdey queried, torn between suspicion, curiousity, and mild guilt for taking her frustrations out on Gambit. If only she hadn't looked so foolish in front of him! Purdey wasn't one to worry about what her classmates thought, but Gambit was different, somehow. She wanted to be at her best when the blue-green eyes watched her from beneath the dark lashes, and her self-defeat on the course was all the more terrible for him being witness to it. But Gambit didn't seem interested in adding to her humiliation, for one very important reason: he was a friend.

"Steed's having a party," Gambit elaborated, breaking into her thoughts. "Couldn't tell you what it's for, except there's going to be dancing and lots to drink. We didn't have much luck at his birthday, so my guess is he's giving it another go, for all our sakes." He looked down at his feet for a moment, a quick moment of silence for poor old Terry, only a few weeks gone, then glanced back up at her. "Thought you might want to try again, after what happened when I asked you along last month. See if we can make it through an evening out without someone dying on us."

"Not a 'date,' then?" Purdey asked in mild amusement, papering over her own twinges of sadness. "And we did make it through _your _birthday celebration without anyone falling dead," she pointed out.

"If I said 'date,' then you might misinterpret, and I wanted one of my evenings to go as planned for a change. _You_ were the one that dragged me out later," he reminded.

"You needed it," Purdey said with conviction. "And I doubt I'd misinterpret what you meant by a 'date.'"

"That's the problem. I was hoping to get a little leeway out of it." He winked at her, and she felt herself smile again, all her previous hardships forgotten. "Whatever we call it, are you interested?"

"I'll see you at seven. Interpret that as you will," she replied coyly, and swept off feeling much better than she had a scant few minutes earlier.


	4. First Steps

Dance With Me

by J. Ferguson a.k.a. Timeless A-Peel

Gambit takes a partner. Purdey finds her rhythm.

Disclaimer: I don't own _The New Avengers,_ nor the characters of Steed, Gambit, and Purdey. They belong to The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. This story is written for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended.

Timeline: Third in a series. Takes place in late February/early March, 1976, ending with the pre-credits events of the episode "Gnaws." Pre-series, with "The Eagle's Nest" taking place in April, 1976. It is recommended, but not essential, that you go back and read "Aftermath" (now updated) before reading this story.

For more information about the series, please see my profile.

* * *

Purdey was watching the people crowding the dance floor wistfully, trying to remember the last time she had taken a turn with a partner who knew his left foot from his right. She realized with surprise that it had been last December, with Gambit as her lead, at the gala evening while they cast watchful eyes over Wollerton's residence. Since then, she'd been too busy with her training, solos, and exams to do any kind of dance that required a partner, particularly Gambit. Pity. Much to her surprise, he'd known how to move, and that was a rare quality in a man.

As if reading her mind, she felt someone come to stand behind her chair. Twisting around, she found Gambit standing there, looking undeniably attractive in his tux, smiling down at her. "Don't tell me you're sitting this one out?" he asked in mild disbelief.

"I don't have much of a choice if no one asks me in," Purdey said wryly, even though there had been one or two interested looks cast her way. Still, she hadn't been able to muster up the enthusiasm to take up the offers.

"And no one has?" Gambit didn't look convinced, then a twinkle appeared behind the blue-green eyes. "Or were you waiting for someone who knew what they were doing?" he mused, half to himself. Purdey didn't reply, too busy wondering if her wistful look had betrayed her and given Gambit an in on her most personal thoughts, but the man himself simply stepped around so he stood before her, held out a hand. "Would you dance with me tonight, Purdey?"

She looked at the hand—so warm, so sure, so open, so inviting. "How do you know I don't _want_ to watch?"

"You don't watch. You _do_," he reminded with a slight smile as he echoed her words from the target range. "And besides, you're a dancer by trade, aren't you? You _always_ want to dance."

She couldn't deny that, couldn't do anything except return the smile, and accept the hand. She knew she didn't want to refuse.

He led her out among the other couples, and she felt her hand gravitate to his shoulder almost automatically. His hand rested on her waist, strong and self-assured, and they started to dance. The music was slow, lazy, and they settled into a comfortable sway. Neither spoke for a long moment, and Purdey let herself enjoy the feeling of moving in sync with another human being, the warm sense of well-being that came with knowing where she stood with someone she trusted. She let herself glide over the floor, prepared to surrender herself to Gambit's arms and the music for the rest of night. Then he spoke, and she found herself pulled back to reality by the blue-green eyes.

"Right now," he said softly. "Why are you letting me lead?"

Purdey blinked. "That's how it's done," she said simply, unable to see the point of the question.

"I know," Gambit replied, still softly, but holding her gaze with his own. "That means you trust me, here and now. What I want to know is why you don't do the same on the course."

Purdey gaped. "I trust you," she insisted, outrage slipping into her voice.

Gambit shook his head, very, very slowly. "No, you don't," he contradicted. "Out there, you're still trying to do everything on your own, to prove you can. Because you want everyone else to see that you're capable." He smiled at her to take some of the sting away. "And that's good. It's gotten you through solos, through training, and it'll get you through a good chunk of your career. But the course is designed so that a person can't run it on his own, because the job's the same way. You need a partner, and you need to trust him, the way you trust me right now, to steer you the right way."

Purdey snorted. "You mean you want me to follow your lead, because you have seniority."

Gambit shook his head again. "No, only if that's the best course of action at the time. Sometimes you _should_ let me lead. But sometimes I'll be the one doing the following. Either way, a lot of the time there's going to be two of us, facing things together."

"You're one to talk," Purdey pointed out. "You're always trying to go off on your own from what Steed's told me. You didn't even _want_ to be on a team."

"That's because I hadn't met the right teammate," Gambit replied. "Someone I knew I could trust." His eyes became distant, and Purdey knew he was facing some old memory, long faded. "I've had to survive by relying on nobody but me for a very long time." He shrugged. "And old habits are hard to break. But you're right. We both need to learn to rely on someone other than ourselves, so we might as well do it together. So remember, if you can, how it feels tonight, and let's see if we can't show the rest of your class how it's done." He dipped her dramatically, and Purdey let him do it, grinning broadly all the while.

"You've got yourself a deal, Mike Gambit."

* * *

The next morning, Gambit slept in. He'd never bothered to invest in an alarm clock. For the most part, he could instruct his body to wake up at the desired time, and if there wasn't a deadline, he was more than happy to wile away a few extra hours in bed before rising to face the day. But this morning the long day of training and the late evening afterwards had taken their toll, and Gambit wasn't anywhere near conscious. Even the incessant chirping at the window by a certain sparrow failed to rouse him, so it wasn't surprising that, upon a gentle scraping emanating from his door's lock, he merely turned over and lapsed back into dreamland.

It was a good dream, for all intents and purposes, but Gambit wouldn't recall much of it upon wakening. Only the feeling of a hand reaching out to caress his forehead, right before his eyes opened, and were met with—

Another pair of eyes.

Gambit's mind struggled to catch up with this startling turn of events. Granted, he'd had nights that, come morning, were a little fuzzy in the details department, and sometimes a certain amount of reintroduction was required when he found himself with a bed partner, but he'd never forgotten about bringing a girl home _entirely_. He played the night back in his head. He hadn't had _that_ much to drink, and after a few more dances and some socializing, he had driven Purdey to her flat, told her good-night, and gone home. It all seemed pretty straightforward. No surprises, nothing he was unclear about.

So why, his fevered brain demanded, was Purdey lying next to him on the bed?

This was where things got a bit difficult. He certainly didn't remember going to bed with Purdey, something he was fairly certain would stick in his mind no matter how drunk he got. But there she was, big as life, smiling cheerily at his bemused and slightly cross-eyed expression. His brain finally managed to contact his mouth, which until that moment had been on leave, and he managed one word.

"Purdey?"

"Yes, hello," the girl confirmed cheerfully, not looking in the least bit angry considering what must have happened. In fact, she seemed to be enjoying his disorientation. It was then that he noticed she was fully dressed. In clothes that she hadn't been wearing the night before. His eyes ventured down to her hand and caught the glint of metal that was a piece of wire. Suddenly, all became clear.

"You do know that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery?" he commented, sitting up with a groan. Purdey was on her side, propped up on one elbow on top of the covers.

"You asked for it after yesterday," Purdey justified, sitting up herself. "Anyway, you got off easily. I was very tempted to play with those buttons of yours and give you a nasty shock, but it was interesting to see how long it took your instincts to kick in once I was inside." She checked her watch. "Two minutes, fifty-four seconds, even after I touched you. Gambit, you disappoint me."

"I'm not at my best without my coffee," he muttered, suddenly remembering where all his clothes were and pulling his sheet a little closer to his waist. "Did you want something?"

Purdey leaned in, very close, smiling seductively, and Gambit felt his heart pound faster. Her face was only inches from his, her lips even closer, and he found himself remembering how soft they'd been against his, what she had tasted like, how she had said his name. _Boat…_ Did she want to try again? Gambit was afraid to get his hopes up, and it was just as well. They would have been dashed before long.

"I do want something, as it happens," she said softly, and Gambit swallowed hard, trying to keep some semblance of control as her fingers reached out and tugged at the St. Christopher. "And that would be a partner that isn't still asleep at 9 a.m."

_Oh._

"Is it nine?" he managed, seeking solace in how level his voice was, not nearly as wavering as he felt inside. "Sorry. It was a late night. I'm surprised you're up."

"Well, I wanted to give that teamwork a try, but it's rather difficult all on my own."

"Lots of things are," Gambit quipped with a slight leer.

"Hmm," was Purdey's only comment. "Get dressed, then. I want to be on the course by ten."

"Fine by me."

She didn't move. Neither did he.

"This may come as a surprise," Purdey said eventually. "But getting dressed usually requires getting out of bed first."

"So I'm told."

Purdey looked exasperated. "Well?"

Gambit pointed to where her hand still clutched the St. Christopher with an iron grip. "I'm not in the mood for an early morning garroting."

Purdey seemed to realise where her hand was for the first time, and let go hastily. "Sorry," she muttered, ducking her eyes as she rubbed the groves cut into her fingers by the chain. "What is that thing, anyway?"

"St. Christopher," Gambit informed as he gathered the sheet around his waist and struggled out of bed. "Patron saint of travelers. Sailors wear them. Sort of a hangover from my Navy days. And a bit of an heirloom."

"I see," Purdey replied thoughtfully, trying to sort out why she'd latched onto the thing to begin with.

"Right, I'll just be in the bathroom if you need me. If you really want me out the door in record time, I'd suggest putting the coffee on."

"I see there's an addition to be made to your list of vices," Purdey replied, but Gambit had already gone. She sighed and climbed off the bed to do as she was bid.

A quick search of Gambit's kitchen revealed cups, saucers, and the coffee grounds. A glance in his fridge revealed that Mike wasn't too inclined in the cooking department, even for one, and so after the coffee was percolating she dredged up some bread from the bottom of a bag and a pair of eggs to fix him a workable breakfast. After all, she rationalized, he needed it to run the course, and it would only waste time if she waited for him to do it. But despite what she was telling herself, she gleaned a little satisfaction at being the one to do him this domestic service. She'd cooked for Gambit before, on the Wollerton assignment, and she couldn't deny the sense of accomplishment of watching him tuck into one of her famous omelets, even if he chose to forgo the marshmallows. She bet that none of Mike's girlfriends could hold a candle to her specialty.

She kicked herself mentally for going down that path. She wasn't interested in forging a relationship with her colleague beyond a professional one. Friendship, perhaps. But lovers…

A tap on the window, followed by a brief burst of birdsong, jolted her from her thoughts. She wheeled around to discover a small sparrow, gazing at her through the pane with head cocked quizzically. Purdey smiled to herself and bent to look out at the tiny bird.

"Charlie." Purdey swiveled her neck to look at Gambit, now showered, shaved, dressed, and ready to face the day. He gratefully accepted the cup and saucer Purdey handed him and took a sip.

"Purdey," she corrected, hands on hips. "Don't tell me you're already mixing me up with some brunette you took out last week."

Gambit scowled. "Charlie," he informed, "is a bird all right, but of the feathered variety. I see you two have met."

Purdey glanced back out the window at the ball of feathers, still waiting patiently and occasionally chirping at them. "'Charlie?'" she repeated, lips twitching in amusement. "You've named him?"

"Why not?" Gambit reached under the counter and produced a jar of birdseed, unscrewed the lid. "Little bugger makes a point of rousing me in the morning—when someone else doesn't get there first," he added pointedly as he poured some seed into his hand, and Purdey snickered. "Couldn't help but get to know one another. Anyway, he looks like a Charlie." He heaved the window open and scattered the seed over the sill, then watched with a slight smile as Charlie bopped over to have his breakfast.

Purdey came and rested her chin companionably on Gambit's shoulder," she murmured in his ear with a smile in her voice. "You really are a softie, aren't you?"

"Can't very well let him starve, can I? Even if our idea of 'morning' doesn't match up." He looked to Purdey with a slightly embarrassed smile. "Don't tell the Ministry boys about him," he requested. "I'd never hear the end of it."

"It'll be our little secret," Purdey said with mock-seriousness. "Unless I need to resort to blackmail."

"Not if you don't want it to get out that you stopped by my flat this morning to make me breakfast," Gambit retorted, homing in on the eggs. "How many do you think will buy that you weren't here last night, too?"

"Gambit…"

"Trust," Gambit reminded, pointing his fork at her.

"Touché," Purdey sighed, leaning into the counter beside him as Gambit tucked into breakfast.

Gambit swallowed. "Don't look like that. I appreciate it."

"Well, I couldn't have you running on empty. I need you to keep up," Purdey reminded. "It's my score on the line."

"You know I'll keep up with you regardless," Gambit said slyly, placing a hand on the counter next to her own so that their fingers were overlapping. It was like a jolt of electricity, and Purdey pulled away before it got any stronger. It hadn't been that long ago that she'd walked into a room and felt a similar jolt upon seeing those blue-green eyes. She'd need to learn to keep those feelings at bay if she was going to keep working with him. _Partly, at least. No need to squelch him completely. Just enough to stay safe._

Gambit was finished. He offered her the last bite of his egg on the end of his fork, and to his surprise she took it, without the smallest qualm about using the same utensil. "You can wash up later," she stated as Gambit gulped back the rest of his coffee. "The course is waiting."

"Lead the way." Gambit swept an arm out for her and she grinned before striding out with him in her wake. He was fun, she had to give him that.


	5. Into the Swing of Things

Dance With Me

by J. Ferguson a.k.a. Timeless A-Peel

Gambit takes a partner. Purdey finds her rhythm.

Disclaimer: I don't own _The New Avengers,_ nor the characters of Steed, Gambit, and Purdey. They belong to The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. This story is written for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended.

Timeline: Third in a series. Takes place in late February/early March, 1976, ending with the pre-credits events of the episode "Gnaws." Pre-series, with "The Eagle's Nest" taking place in April, 1976. It is recommended, but not essential, that you go back and read "Aftermath" (now updated) before reading this story.

For more information about the series, please see my profile.

* * *

"Right," Gambit announced, rolling up the sleeve of his fatigues so he could read the time on his wristwatch. "I'll time us, but right now it's our coordination as a team that we have to worry about. Speed'll come later."

"Not too much later, I don't think," Purdey said with confidence, stretching like a cat about to go on the prowl. Gambit smiled. He'd been worried that the earlier blow to her ego would hurt her enthusiasm, but obviously nothing kept Purdey down for long.

"Ready?"

"When you are."

Gambit waited for the second hand to hit twelve. "Go!"

They left the starting line as one, sprinting madly for the rope ladder, hands reaching to grasp it like a drowning man after a life preserver. They scrabbled up the web, side by side this time, made it to the top at the same instant. Purdey's old enemy the wall was still there, waiting for her to challenge it once more. This time she looked to Gambit, quickly estimated his height in relation to the obstruction.

"Stand here," she ordered, pointing to a spot next to the surface.

"You're not going to run at it again?" Gambit queried, moving to obey.

"After that lecture you gave me yesterday? No, you were right. If I need help, I'll do my best to take it."

"It wasn't a lecture," Gambit pointed out mildly. "More like friendly advice."

"Either way," Purdey said absently, giving Gambit a slight push until his back was against the wall. "There. Hold still."

"What for?"

"You," Purdey informed him, "are going to be my ladder."

"And then you'll be my way up when you get to the top," Gambit finished, already bending to form a stirrup with his hands. "There you are. We might live through this yet, Purdey-girl."

"Hmm." She reached out and put her hands on his shoulders for balance as she slipped her booted foot into his hand. There was a brief moment when she found herself looking into the blue-green eyes before she was lifted, high above the platform, straight up into the sky, where the top of the wall beckoned to her outstretched hands. She brought her other leg up and boosted herself up and over, straddling the top before leaning down to catch Gambit's waiting hands and pull him up with her.

There was something…different about touching him this way, hands encircling one another's wrists for better grip. Purdey wasn't used to men she wasn't related to putting themselves in her hands completely, and not feeling insecure about it. True, at the moment all Gambit was doing was getting a lift to the top, but it felt like more. Because he was willing to give her the chance, she mused, if she did the same for him. It was nicely equal for a change. Partners. She liked it.

Gambit was heavier than her, but with an anchor at the top, he was able to use his feet to bring himself up to join Purdey. He swung his enviably long legs over the edge and winked at Purdey. "That's one down."

"Don't get too confident. We've hardly started and we're already wasting time," Purdey pointed out, peering over the other side.

"Not a bad little trick to start out, though," Gambit insisted. "Wonder how it'd go over at parties?"

"Really, Gambit, thinking about party tricks at a time like this," Purdey sighed, swinging her other leg over the edge as well. "See you at the bottom." She was falling to the platform on the other side before Gambit could shout a warning. He'd seen what was waiting for her a few steps away. He let himself drop, too, hoping he'd catch her in time.

Purdey landed lightly on the ground, straightened up, and surveyed the straight, yet narrow, stretch of catwalk before her. She'd gone through this yesterday, and it had been straightforward enough. No need to wait for Gambit in this bit. Purdey shrugged and started to make her way along it, carefully placing one booted foot in front of the other—until there was suddenly nowhere for the next boot to go. Purdey looked down just in time to see her foot step into empty air as a section of the catwalk gave beneath her foot. Purdey could see the net below and windmilled her arms frantically, painfully certain that she would take a fall regardless. But just as gravity was starting to take hold, she felt strong arms around her waist, and her fall was halted. She twisted around to find that Gambit had gotten hold of her, and was now retracing his steps back up the catwalk to the wider platform, holding her just off the ground. He set her down once they reached their destination, knowing full well Purdey would need a moment to get her breath back. She was panting heavily, more from surprise than exertion, and turned to survey the trap with a furrowed brow.

"That wasn't there yesterday!" she exclaimed, glancing back at her colleague.

"They change it," Gambit explained. "So you can't run it by memory. Keeps you on your toes. I only noticed it by chance from up above." He paused to let Purdey digest this bit of information before moving on. "We're meant to know how to deal with anything the course throws at us, so if, say, a giant swinging axe comes up, we won't hesitate for a second."

"What do we do?" Purdey wanted to know.

"Train ourselves to deal with every eventuality," Gambit said simply.

"No," Purdey pressed, shaking her head, "what _do_ we do?"

"Eh?" Gambit's eyebrows knitted in puzzlement.

"If there's a giant swinging axe across the platform. What do we do?" Purdey asked, quite seriously, as though this were an important part of her education.

"Lie down on our stomachs and pray we didn't have too much for lunch," Gambit quipped with a smile.

Purdey smirked. "I'd better cut back on the marshmallows, then."

"I don't think you'll have much of a problem in the figure department," Gambit observed appreciatively. "If you keep doing what you've been doing."

"Mike Gambit," she chastised gently. She was already looking out at the catwalk, ready to tackle it once more. "We're not doing much for our time, are we?"

"Let's look out for other surprises and worry about that later," Gambit suggested. "Now, will I get your back up if I let you go first, or will you do me a damage if I don't?"

"Guess," Purdey said cheerily.

"I don't like my odds."

Purdey frowned. "Odds? It's fifty-fifty."

Gambit shook his head. "I don't buy that. There's a catch, somewhere, and it'll come back to haunt me."

"Well, if you're going to be like that, I will go first," Purdey huffed, although she knew Gambit was right, but it was a new experience for someone to read her that well. She squared her shoulders and started back along the catwalk, this time with Mike in tow. Into the breach, but not alone.

* * *

Purdey collapsed on her stomach next to Gambit, heart pounding, breathing rapid. Sweat poured off every inch of her body, dripping onto the floor and forming small lakes. Her hair had left 'tousled' behind long ago, now more akin to bedhead, where it wasn't plastered to her face with sweat. Every muscle of her body ached in places and ways she hadn't experienced since her dancing days. Ballet classes seemed a gentle push by comparison.

She looked to Gambit. He was panting just as heavily, sweat soaking through the black t-shirt, but there was a slight smile betraying a sort of exhausted satisfaction, as if to say he had pushed himself as hard as he dared, and liked what he had achieved. They'd been working at the course for three and a half weeks, and every day she added to her collection of bruises. But it was worth the pain. It had been weeks now, but they were getting better, she was certain of it. There was something undeniably erotic about the whole exercise, working so closely physically and mentally, relying on one another for survival as it were. One in the physical challenge, and lying collapsed in the aftermath, waiting to cool. She knew she was seeing another side to Gambit, now, one that she hadn't come across during the Wollerton assignment. Of course, she'd seen his martial arts expertise, how he handled himself in a fight, but it was different when she was the partner in the exercise. Now she could _feel_ him in action, the lithe muscles beneath the shirt when she put her hands to execute some maneuver to get them past another obstacle. The self-assured hands on her waist, her hips, her legs. The feeling of action and movement and raw physical strength, so close that she could smell him, almost taste him. And then there was the chest beneath the shirt when he stripped off the fatigue jacket, and the arms that could lift her with such ease. And it seemed all right to notice and appreciate it all, here, on the course, because there wasn't room for much else but the physical, so focused were they on their training. They didn't talk of or do much else—there wasn't time. So Purdey felt safe in her appreciation of her colleague's physical prowess, even if every time they went through the motions her brain warned her she was falling a little harder, appreciating him a little more than necessary. Blood pumped loudly in her ears still, and Purdey resisted the urge to move closer, to put her hands on the heaving chest, to pin him to the ground and cover those hot lips with hers, taste his sweat, let him decide how to proceed without any regard for the consequences.

Gambit turned to her just then, regarded her quizzically. "Why are you smiling like that?"

Purdey blinked. "Am I?"

"Yes."

"Just thinking. Never mind," she dismissed, hoping he'd drop it, and that he'd put her red, burning face down to the workout.

"Oh," he murmured, sounding mildly disappointed. "Go again?"

Purdey felt her mouth drop open. "You must be joking. My bruises have bruises!"

"More practice we get, the better."

"But Gambit, I'm dying! I'm coughing blood!" Purdey dramatized, rolling onto her back, splaying a hand over her forehead.

"You're fine," Gambit said with conviction, already springing back up, paying her amateur dramatics no heed. "You wanted to be treated the same as any man, and that's just what I'm doing. Once more, that's all I ask."

"Then we can call it a night?" Purdey asked hopefully.

"Promise," Gambit assured. "Even if I have to carry you home."

"Oh, all right," Purdey agreed, pulling herself up off the floor. "One more time. But you've swung me about enough for one day."

"Not the way I see it." With that grin again.

"I'm quite aware of how you see it. Come on, let's go."

Purdey was half-asleep by the time she found her way out of the locker room. She followed Gambit to the Jag on autopilot, crawled into the passenger seat, and fell asleep immediately for the trip back to her flat.

Gambit couldn't help but glance her way as he drove. She looked so peaceful, so serene when she slept. So beautiful. _Keep your eyes on the road, Mike. Remember what happened last time. And she didn't ask for more_.

But there had been something on the course, hadn't there? Surely he couldn't be the only one who felt it, the way their bodies were gradually synchronizing, until they almost moved as one? And the way her hands placed themselves on his chest, or his shoulder, or his back—every time couldn't be solely by chance. There was a certain deliberate quality to her touch. But no, she hadn't said anything. And it was her choice—always. He didn't want her to feel pressured. He didn't want _any_ girl to feel pressured. And Purdey wasn't just any girl.

They arrived at her flat, and Gambit looked over to see how Purdey was holding up. She was seated almost sideways, head leaning back against the window, breathing deeply, hands lying untidily in her lap. He smiled at the childlike pose, even as he called her softly. "Purdey."

"Mmph," was the eloquent response, and she shifted her hands but didn't wake. Gambit sighed. He didn't really want to wake her if he didn't have to. She needed all the rest she could get, and if she were even a fraction as exhausted as he was, he couldn't blame her for dropping off. That left one option. Gambit debated for a bit. If Purdey woke up, how would she take it? But she didn't look likely to move on her own. And he knew by now he could support her weight…

Gambit made his decision, and quietly unbuckled his seat belt, and after a brief argument with his conscience, opened Purdey's purse and found her house keys. He smiled slightly at Purdey's sleeping form. "Don't go away," he told her quietly, before easing open his door with the smallest click possible, and closing it the same way.

He ran down the 21 steps and tried three keys before succeeding in opening the flat's door. Pocketing the ring, he dashed back up, leaving the door ajar. He moved around the front of the Jag, and slowly, carefully opened the passenger door, reaching in to support Purdey's tousled blonde head as he did so Then he remembered her seat belt. _Damn. Should have gotten rid of that first_. He knelt, let Purdey's head rest on his shoulder while he reached back into the car and felt about for the button mechanism, cursing softly every time he moved and Purdey stirred. She readjusted her head so it was resting with her face turned toward his, mouth by his ear. "'S very comfortable shoulder," she said in a thick voice that betrayed her semi-conscious state, and nuzzled in a bit closer. Gambit swallowed hard and tried to remember how to breathe. _Where's the damn seat belt? Ah!_ He unlocked the mechanism and somehow untangled it from around Purdey's arm before gathering her up. She muttered something about not getting enough height on that last leap, and went quiet again. Gambit closed the car door as quietly as possible, and hoped and prayed that Purdey's neighbors weren't the sort that looked out the window at the 1 a.m. The last thing he needed was someone misinterpreting his actions and calling the police.

He got Purdey down the stairs all right, kicking the door shut behind him with his boot. Somehow, he managed to get Purdey in her bed under the covers without waking her. He knelt to work off her boots, and then tried to straighten up, putting one hand on the bed to brace himself. He was sore and he was feeling it. Purdey chose that moment to roll over and settle in with a contented sigh, covering Gambit's hand in the process. He tried to move it, but Purdey had gotten it rather comfortably pinned beneath her hip. He regarded his unwitting conqueror with vague amusement. "If you want me to stay, Purdey, all you have to do is ask. But Mike needs his hand back before it loses circulation."

Purdey's face betrayed a flicker of a smile, as if she knew exactly how she had thwarted her colleague, but didn't comment. Gambit sighed, and worked his hand slowly out from underneath her, saying a silent prayer of thanks that it was Purdey and not someone heavier, such as Steed, who was putting her weight on it.

By the time he was free, Mike was more than ready to climb into bed himself. His flat wasn't far, but for his fatigued brain the drive seemed impossibly long. He caught sight of Purdey's couch and eyed it hopefully. He could just close his eyes for a minute or two, to steel himself for the ride home. Purdey wouldn't mind.

"Just a minute or two," he confirmed, already sinking back into the cushions. It was his final thought before he fell into a deep slumber.


	6. A Spanner in the Works

Dance With Me

by J. Ferguson a.k.a. Timeless A-Peel

Gambit takes a partner. Purdey finds her rhythm.

Disclaimer: I don't own _The New Avengers,_ nor the characters of Steed, Gambit, and Purdey. They belong to The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. This story is written for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended.

Timeline: Third in a series. Takes place in late February/early March, 1976, ending with the pre-credits events of the episode "Gnaws." Pre-series, with "The Eagle's Nest" taking place in April, 1976. It is recommended, but not essential, that you go back and read "Aftermath" (now updated) before reading this story.

For more information about the series, please see my profile.

* * *

Gambit awoke to the intrusive sound of a buzzer. He groaned and clamped his pillow over his ears, hoping to block the grating noise out of his dreams. No use. The persistent sound was unrelenting. Muttering a few choice words preferred among sailors, he staggered up and toward the door, eyes screwed up against the early morning light. "All right, all right. I'm coming. Don't get your knickers in a twist," he growled at his tormenter. That stopped the buzzing pounding his brain into submission, at least, although Gambit still wasn't feeling any more kindly to the visitor. He jerked the door open, with a sour look on his face. "What the devil do you want?"

Steed blinked at him in surprise. "I'm terribly sorry," he told Gambit's slightly taken-aback expression. "I know how you feel about early morning wake-up calls."

"Why, then?" Gambit asked, a little mellower now that he was awake, and the sleep-deprivation headache had hit him.

"I thought I'd come to a different address," Steed explained, frowning.

"What?" It was too early to figure these things out. And with no coffee to boot.

"Well, unless I'm horribly mistaken, you live in a block of flats, not in a basement." Gambit blinked as this information sunk into his brain. Then he looked at the door he was holding open, and the basket for collecting the mail, and the gauzy curtain. And remembered. This wasn't his flat. It was—

"What's going on?" Purdey's sleepy voice asked. She wandered over sleepily and wedged herself between Gambit and the doorframe. "Oh, hullo Steed." She had a rather advanced case of bedhead, and her slim frame was wrapped in a robe. Obviously she had woken up in the night and changed, but not enough that she'd noticed the form on her couch. She smiled tiredly. "Did you need something?"

"Perhaps I should come back later, when you've had a moment," Steed offered, looking from one to the other.

"What?" Purdey looked at Gambit, as though seeing him for the first time. "What are you doing here?"

Gambit smiled sheepishly. "I camped out on your couch. Only meant to stay a minute, but…" He shrugged pathetically, dug her keys out of his pocket and handed them over. "Sorry."

Purdey shook her head in disbelief. " 'Just one more time, Purdey' you said. 'I'm not tired,' you said. 'No stamina,' you said."

"Doesn't mean I don't wear out. And you did put a lot into that last time. I had trouble keeping up. Plus, you gave me a few bruises." He rubbed his ribs ruefully.

"Oh, yes. Sorry," Purdey said quietly, biting a lip. "But I had to get my leg from around you somehow."

"I'll just leave, shall I?" Steed was already backing away.

Purdey frowned. "Whatever for?"

"You and Gambit obviously have a lot to talk about…"

"We can discuss the obstacle course later," Purdey told him. "What did you need?"

"Obstacle course?" Steed pondered that, cycling through the last few lines of dialogue. "Ah, yes, of course."

"Come in," Purdey offered, already moving to the kitchen. "You both might as well both join me for breakfast."

"Thank you," Steed accepted, closing the door behind him and removing his bowler. "I'm glad to find you both in one place, truth be told."

"Oh? Why?" Purdey queried with a cock of the head, before gesturing impatiently at Gambit, who was still standing dazedly by the door, to come and fix the toast. He snapped to attention almost immediately, much to Steed's amusement, and did as he was told. Purdey found some eggs in the meantime, and a large mixing bowl.

"I was going to tell you first this morning, Purdey," Steed elaborated, taking a seat at the kitchen table, "so that you could make alternate arrangements as soon as possible."

"Alternate?" Purdey asked in puzzlement, whisking madly in what Steed assumed would be another of her omelet creations.

"For the course," Steed informed. "You're going to need a new partner."

Purdey looked up sharply from her whisking to meet Steed's grey eyes. "A new partner?" she repeated in disbelief, whirling on Gambit. "Mike, what's he talking about?"

Gambit raised his hands in defense. "Don't look at me. This is the first I've heard of it." He turned to Steed. "There's nothing in the rulebook that says I can't run the course with Purdey, and I'm not working on anything at the moment."

"You are now," Steed revealed, tapping the table distractedly. "McKay received a message from the Germans early this morning. There's some mopping up related to your assignment, and they'd like you to be there to assist."

Gambit leaned against the counter tiredly and rubbed his eyes. "Can't they send someone else and just get him to read the file?"

Steed shook his head in a definitive 'no.' "They specifically requested you. And McKay wants relations between our departments to stay as friendly as possible. There's no way out, I'm afraid."

"Damn," Gambit swore, dropping his hands from his face and meeting Purdey's blue eyes. "Sorry, Purdey-girl. Looks like you'll have to find a substitute."

"It's not that simple!" Purdey snapped, looking from one to the other in desperation. "Gambit and I have been training together for weeks. We're ready. We've got a rapport. We _understand_ each other. I'm not going to find anyone else I work as well with." She paused and realized what she'd said, caught Gambit's spreading grin and the slight twinkle in his eyes. "Not in time, anyway," she added, hoping her blush wasn't too obvious to the two men. "The test is in five days. That's not enough time to break in someone new. And if I don't run it now, I'll have to wait three months for the next round. Three more months stuck just this side of agent status." She crossed her arms moodily.

"Perhaps Spence could make a special exception in your case, let you run it when Gambit comes back?" Steed suggested.

Purdey shook her head vigourously. "I don't _want_ special treatment. The last thing I need is people saying I got an easy pass, or extra time." She scrunched her hands into fists. "And I'm not taking on someone new. We're meant to be partners after this is over. It only makes sense to run this together. Can't you explain that to McKay?"

"I've already tried," Steed told her.

"What if I went in? Talked to him myself?" Purdey suggested.

Steed shook his head. "You'd bang heads, but I doubt there'd be much progress. Tommy's stubborn when he sets his mind to it. No, Gambit's going. I was planning on telling him right after you."

Gambit, who had been taking the conversation in silently, suddenly broke in. "When am I due to leave, exactly?"

"Tomorrow," was the answer. "You're taking the 3:45 out to Berlin."

"And how long do they figure I'll be needed?"

"About four days, give or take," Steed estimated. "Depending on how sticky things get."

"Four days," Gambit murmured. He looked to Purdey, cautious optimism in his green-tinged eyes. "If I really push, don't sleep much, I could make it, just barely."

Purdey didn't even try to disguise her hope. "Do you think so? Really?"

"Really. It might be tight, and you'll have to go without me for a few days, but we're just about there in training, and you can still practice while I'm gone. Find someone else, just in case. And we've got all today and some of tomorrow to work out the kinks." He glanced at Steed. "That'd satisfy McKay and get me back here for Purdey."

"It would," Steed allowed, "but you'd be near exhaustion."

"I can handle it," Gambit said with conviction. "I've been through worse. Much worse," he added darkly, and Steed nodded slightly in agreement.

Purdey frowned. She wasn't entirely certain what to make of the comment. "You're sure?"

Gambit winked saucily at her. "Just watch me."

* * *

The next day, Purdey found herself driving Gambit to the airport. It wasn't as though she could do much training without him, and the impending test date made it hard for her to think of much else. She glanced over at Gambit, doing his best to stretch his long legs out in the confines of her MGB.

"You don't find it a bit tight in here?" he observed as casually as possible while trying to persuade the seat to slide back further.

_Whoomp_! Purdey grinned as his seat back went into a sudden recline, and Gambit found himself flat on his back with a very good view of the car's ceiling.

"Just be thankful I didn't ride my motorbike to work today," she told him, as Gambit struggled to return to the upright and locked position. "Then you'd be complaining about your arms getting tired."

Gambit twisted to look up at her in disbelief. "You'd make me ride in on the back?"

"My bike, my rules," Purdey told him cheerfully. "I thought you'd enjoy the idea of having your arms around my waist."

"Well, when you put it that way…" Gambit grinned up at her, then started feeling around for the elusive button that would adjust his seat. "From now on, if we're taking a car together, let's try to make it one of mine."

"Do you need any help?" Purdey asked casually, shifting gears.

"I can manage, thanks," came the grumbled reply. "Where do they hide…ah." Gambit popped back up like the world's strangest jack-in-the-box. "That's better."

"I wouldn't have thought it would be a problem after that bed of yours," Purdey commented, looking out of the corner of her eye at Gambit's slightly self-satisfied expression. "Considering how many buttons you've got on it, I expect it could do your taxes as well."

"It's not so much what it does as what you do in it," Gambit quipped, eyebrows waggling madly. "Let me know if you want a practical demonstration."

"Not particularly," Purdey retorted, trying desperately to ignore Gambit's well-shaped hand fiddling idly—no, _suggestively_--with the gear shift as he glanced out the window. Did he do these things on purpose to tempt her? But when she looked Gambit was still staring out the window at the passing scenery, seemingly oblivious to the effect he was having on his colleague as he drew his index finger over the surface of the knob in slow, deliberate circles. Purdey felt herself flush, her mind taking her body on a tour of past places that particular hand had visited, just as innocently, on the training course. She snapped back to reality just in time to observe a corner coming up, felt panic well up inside her as it dawned on her that she'd have to touch that hand to shift gears.

"Move your hand!" she snapped, a little desperately, and Gambit jumped in surprise, pulling back just in time for Purdey to take the corner, albeit sharply. They settled into an uneasy silence, Gambit eyeing her in bemusement, but Purdey wasn't about to explain why she couldn't take direct contact with him at that moment.

"Thanks for driving me out in any case," he said after a moment. "I could've gone out myself, you know."

Purdey giggled in relief at the welcome topic change. "And listen to you complain about the parking fees? No thank you, Mike Gambit, you're mean, mean, mean. I'd just as soon spend the petrol and save my nerves later."

"All the same, I'll take a cab back," Gambit insisted. "I'm not fighting these seats again if I can help it."

"Suit yourself," Purdey said with a shrug, secretly glad she wouldn't have to sweat thorough his hand on her gear shift again. "Just so long as you get back in time."

"I will," he promised as they pulled into the departures area. He climbed out of the car and extracted his solitary suitcase from the boot. Purdey alighted as well, stood on the curb and watched the half dozen other couples around them: wives bidding husbands good-bye, all of whom were similarly lightly packed. Purdey crossed her arms and looked down, tried not to think of the days she had seen Larry off to some overseas conference or other in much the same way as these same couples. And here she was, years later, unmarried, dropping off her colleague. Who would have guessed?

"Purdey?" She looked up. Gambit was standing before her, suitcase by his feet, looking for all the world like any of the husbands taking their leave that day. "You okay?" he asked, somewhat worriedly, taking in her pinched features.

She managed a smile for him. "Fine," she assured, reaching out to straighten his tie for something to do. It came naturally among all the other couples. "Take care of yourself, Mike Gambit. You can't very well run the course with two or three bullets in you." She watched his eyebrows quirk up in surprise. "I know all about last time," she revealed. "And I know you've a tendency to spring leaks."

"I'll do my level best to stay leak-free," he said saucily, clearly enjoying the feeling of her hands so close to his chest.

"And keep your mind on the task at hand," she went on, tapping him lightly on the nose. "There's no time to go chasing pretty young Frauleins if you're going to make it back in time." She paused, and her mouth quirked up on side. "If you didn't alienate them all on your last trip."

"No worries on that end. I promise you I've done my bit to keep British-German relations friendly," Gambit assured with a small smile.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Purdey replied wryly, tugging his tie a little harder than was strictly necessary. Gambit choked a little and ran a finger along the inside of his collar.

"Anything else you'd like to lecture me about? Don't wear the blue tie with the yellow shirt? Bring something home for the kids?"

Purdey snorted. "If you do ever have children, Mike Gambit, I pity the poor woman that brings them into the world."

"You don't mean that," Gambit teased, bending to retrieve his luggage. "See you in a few days, Purdey-girl." He took her hand and put it briefly to his lips. "Don't wait up."

And then he was gone, weaving his way through the other commuters, leaving Purdey to stand and watch his dark curly head until it disappeared in the throng. She looked down at her hand, felt the corners of her mouth twitch up involuntarily. She shook her head as she climbed back into her car. "Mike Gambit," she muttered to herself as the engine coughed to life. "You're impossible, but I do love you."


	7. The Nick of Time

Dance With Me

by J. Ferguson a.k.a. Timeless A-Peel

Gambit takes a partner. Purdey finds her rhythm.

Disclaimer: I don't own _The New Avengers,_ nor the characters of Steed, Gambit, and Purdey. They belong to The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. This story is written for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended.

Timeline: Third in a series. Takes place in late February/early March, 1976, ending with the pre-credits events of the episode "Gnaws." Pre-series, with "The Eagle's Nest" taking place in April, 1976. It is recommended, but not essential, that you go back and read "Aftermath" (now updated) before reading this story.

For more information about the series, please see my profile.

* * *

One day passed, then another, then three. Purdey checked at the Ministry's front desk every morning, noon, and evening for any word that Gambit had returned or called in, but the answer was always in the negative. She ran the course a few times with some willing classmates, but none of them understood the joke behind the 'party tricks,' and she spent most of her time keeping limber instead. But as she watched the time tick away, she felt her heart slowly sink. She checked with Steed, McKay, anyone, for some sort of report on Gambit's progress, but apparently Mike was too busy to report in. She went to bed the night before the test feeling disappointed in more ways she had thought possible. Somehow, she'd found it inconceivable that Mike Gambit could let her down.

The next morning, Purdey packed her duffle bag without much enthusiasm, part of her wondering whether to even bother going in for the day. But no, there was time. The course runs started at eleven, and theirs was scheduled for 11:30. She glanced at the clock. Just over four hours for Gambit to make it in. _He might, _she allowed, reaching for the doorknob. _No, he has to._

* * *

Mike Gambit was sprinting like his life depended on it. Which it did, really. If he didn't make it back in time, he was certain Purdey would have his guts for garters. That set him off on another train of thought involving a pair of shapely, stocking-clad legs.

_Focus, Mike. You need to get this report in._

The man in the office, the German equivalent of McKay, started in surprise as Gambit burst unceremoniously into his office, despite the protestations of the secretary in the outer office.

"_Don't you know how to knock, Gambit_?" he asked in German, minor annoyance spread across his face.

"_Sorry sir," _Gambit apologized, and backtracked to knock on the door before depositing a file on the man's desk. "_That's my report, sir. Everything accounted for. Permission to return to England immediately."_

The man raised an eyebrow. _"In a hurry, are we?"_

Gambit nodded vigorously, wondering if he'd overdone it one the coffee that morning. _"I made a promise, sir, to a friend, that I'd be back home today. She's counting on me, sir."_

"_You made a promise to a girl?"_

"_Yessir."_

"_Haven't we all,"_ the man commented wryly. _"Well, then, Gambit, I see no reason for you to miss this appointment. By all means, go. Thank you for your assistance."_

Gambit nearly fainted in relief. "_Thank you, sir. You saved my life."_

"_I know,"_ the man said knowingly to Gambit's retreating back. "_Only too well."_

* * *

Purdey was idly tapping a pen against her lip and watching the clock inch its way toward ten. Steed passed by the break room in which she was ensconced, popped his head in. "Still no sign of Gambit," he inferred from Purdey's long face.

"No," she sighed, crossing and uncrossing her legs in anxiety. "I shouldn't have expected the impossible, I suppose. It was wrong to ask him to cut it so close. I shouldn't have asked him to run the course in the first place."

"Now, you know that's wrong," Steed said gently, coming to sit across from her at her table. "If Gambit didn't think he could make it back, he wouldn't have made you think otherwise. If there's one thing you can say about Gambit, it's that he keeps his word. He's reliable."

"That's two things," Purdey pointed out with a sigh. "I hope you're right."

"Give him time," Steed suggested, standing again. "He'll be here."

* * *

"Sir?" the stewardess called, knocking on the bathroom door once more. "Sir, the aircraft is landing. I must insist that you return to your seat." She paused, considering the possibilities. "If you're not alone in there—"

The door swung open, and Gambit squeezed out of the small space, now changed into his fatigues for the course. He smiled at the surprised stewardess. "I'm alone," he corrected, "this time, anyway." He took in her bemused expression. "Appointment," he explained lamely. "I don't want to be late."

* * *

It was eleven. Purdey sat perched on a chair, watching at the first team made its start across the course. They were released at ten minute intervals so as to prevent crowding that could hurt a team's time. Gambit and Purdey were third in line. The rest of her classmates watched as the first pair, Wallace and Havers, took off the sound of the starting pistol. Spence, there in an observational capacity, sidled over to where Purdey sat and gave her a reassuring smile.

"Mike not turned up yet, eh?" he sympathized.

Purdey shook her head gloomily.

"Well, don't worry. Mike was never one to stand up a pretty young lady. He's still got half an hour."

Purdey sighed. "Half an hour," she agreed glumly.

* * *

"Can't you make this thing go any faster?" Gambit asked of the cab driver, who was getting more than a little fed up with his backseat driver of a passenger.

"Look, guv, this isn't Daytona. I'm doing my best," he justified, maneuvering around a lorry with, in Gambit's eyes, agonizing slowness.

"You bet it isn't," Gambit muttered, unbuckling his seat belt. "Pull over."

"Wha--?"

"Just do it," Gambit said levelly, and the cabbie obeyed. Gambit climbed out and walked over to the driver's side, yanked the door open. "Get out. I'm driving."

"Hey, you just can't—" the man tried to protest, but Gambit's ID was filling his vision. "Government business," he explained. "Shift over. I _was _at Daytona. You might learn a thing or two."

* * *

Purdey glanced at the clock again. Fifteen minutes to go. She looked to Spence, who could only shrug. This couldn't be happening.

* * *

The cabbie barely managed to detach his hands from where they'd latched themselves to the dashboard to accept the handful of notes Gambit flung at him before leaping lithely up the Ministry steps, suitcase in hand.

"Daytona," he mused dazedly. "Surprised he didn't bloody crash."

* * *

George Radcliffe looked up from the file he was perusing as he ambled down the hall just in time to avoid a head-on collision with his old friend.

"George!"

"Mike!"

"Here." Gambit thrust his suitcase into Radcliffe's hands. "Take this."

"What's in it?"

"My dirty laundry."

"Ah, national security, then?" Radcliffe quipped with a smirk. "You don't expect me to do it?"

"Just hang onto it," Gambit called over his shoulder, already racing down the hall.

* * *

"Five minutes," Purdey said to herself, standing up and toying absently with a strand of blonde hair. "He's not going to make it," she declared to Spence, who was grinning in a way she didn't appreciate considering the circumstances. "What is it?" she asked impatiently. "Gambit's not going to make it. I hardly think that's amusing."

"Why, Purdey, I thought you trusted me."

Purdey felt her eyes widen. It couldn't be… She spun to find Gambit's smiling face. He was changed and puffing a little from exertion, but he was there.

"I told you I'd make it," he panted. "I can't believe you'd doubt me, after all we've been through."

Purdey wasn't listening. "Mike Gambit, you're beautiful!" she exclaimed, grabbing his arm and dragging him to the starting line. "I could kiss you."

"Fine by me," Gambit replied, glad that his breath was back.

"There's no time for that now," she said impatiently. "We've got work to do. Do you need to stretch first?"

"No thanks. I did my warm-up jogging through Heathrow," Gambit confided.

Purdey didn't have a chance to reply. The starting gun went off, and the two of them were suddenly one, leaping off the line and toward the first of the many obstacles.

John Steed entered quietly a few seconds later, came to stand beside Spence. "Gambit made it in time, I see," he commented to the other man.

"The nick of time," Spence clarified. "Just as well, too. Look at the pair of them." He shook his head. "In all my years watching agents run the course, they're the first."

Steed frowned. "First? In what way?'

Spence pointed to the two figures, engaged in their own strange dance. "Gambit and Purdey, they must be mad. They're _smiling_. No one smiles while they run that thing."

Steed was smiling now. "Perhaps they're enjoying themselves," he murmured remembering what it was like to have a close connection with another human being. "I think," he confided to Spence, "that they're destined for great things."

* * *

"Steed!" Purdey, fresh from the locker room, waved gaily down the corridor at the bowler-hatted agent, hurrying over to where he stood next to the safeboxes with Gambit in tow. All an agent's watches and other adornments were checked at the station before the course, just in case someone fancied themselves a 'Q', and had added a few extras. Gambit had only managed to throw off all off his watch and other belongings just before entering the training course, left in an untidy heap for the girl manning the desk to stow. Purdey reached their destination first, positively bursting with excitement.

"Did you hear?" she trilled. "Gambit and I set a new record. It's the best since they've had since they started the course back in '67."

"I did," Steed confirmed, beaming back at her. "Congratulations to the pair of you."

"And you thought I'd let you down," Gambit said in mock-disappointment, although his grin was nearly as big as Purdey's, putting a friendly arm around the girl's waist. She hugged his arm affectionately and pulled a face.

"I didn't doubt you for a moment," she insisted, and the pair exchanged a huge smile.

"George is going to be steamed," Gambit confided, "that I beat the record without him. Serves him right for being so damned unflexible."

"I did my best," Purdey demurred, accepting the compliment about her bendable frame. "The rest of my classmates didn't look any happier about it."

"Only because none of them had partners worth kissing to celebrate," Gambit pointed out, grinning wickedly as he recalled Purdey's enthusiastic response to victory.

"I would've kissed a shark," Purdey replied, blushing. "It just so happens that you were part of the reason we did as well as we did."

"Ah, she's going to let me in for some of the credit," Gambit said pointedly to Steed. "She's even happier than I thought."

"Oh, hush," Purdey scolded good-humouredly, with an elbow to the ribs. "Purdey and Gambit," she told the girl behind the counter, who nodded and went to fetch their boxes.

"We should celebrate," Gambit told his blonde colleague. "It's been a rough month. We deserve it."

"Dinner?" Purdey asked hopefully.

"It's just past noon," Gambit pointed out.

"Lunch, then. And then dinner," Purdey reasoned, and Gambit shook his head.

"You and your stomach," he said in disbelief. "You'll eat through my savings at this rate."

"I'm high maintenance," Purdey preened. "Like my namesake, the shotgun."

"No one knows that better than I," Gambit murmured appreciatively.

The boxes arrived, and the pair opened them in unison, then, as though choreographed, they removed the pieces one by one, in the same order. Out came the pinky rings, onto the fingers. Then the chains—Gambit's St. Christopher did up in the same time as Purdey's thin gold version. The watches were next. As Purdey finished off putting her earrings in, Steed watched them in vague amusement, checked the impulse to see if they were blinking in unison.

"I see your training's extended off the course," he commented, and Purdey and Gambit exchanged bemused glances.

"I don't follow," Gambit voiced for the pair of them. Steed was about to elaborate--or ask them if they were joking--but McKay had suddenly materialised beside them, holding a file and looking grim.

"Tommy," Steed acknowledged, feeling the frown creep across his own face as he caught sight of his old friend's expression. "Purdey and Gambit made an excellent show on the course."

"So I heard," McKay confirmed, nodding curtly to the pair. "That's the last round for you, isn't it? Full agent now," he added to Purdey.

Purdey was still grinning broadly. "And not a moment too soon," she opined. "The uniform was getting tiresome."

"I'm glad you feel that way," McKay replied, sliding a file across the counter toward them. Gambit stopped it with a finger and turned it round, frowned at Purdey before looking back at McKay.

"Thornton?" he queried, reading the name off the file. Purdey peered over his shoulder, positively champing at the bit.

"An assignment already?" she asked hopefully, bringing her eyes up to meet McKay's. "I haven't even filled the paperwork out to have my status changed."

"Oh, Steed will see to that," McKay stated, and Steed raised a surprised eyebrow at his two younger charges.

"Will I?" he murmured to himself, tapping a finger on the counter thoughtfully.

"Who's Thornton when he's at home?" Gambit wanted to know, opening the file and skimming the contents.

"You'll find out in there," McKay told him. "At the moment, there's a body been discovered. One of ours. I'd like you to take a look at it, Gambit, see if you can find any connection between his death and that file. There's a note about the location there, as well. And as Purdey's ready for assignments, I see no reason why she can't accompany you. Now that you're partners, it'll give you an opportunity to walk her through the process."

"I already have—" Purdey began, but McKay cut her off.

"As soon as possible, please," he said firmly, and Purdey and Gambit barely had time to bid Steed good-bye before scuttling off on their task. Steed waited until they were out of sight before turning his attention to his old friend.

"I was under the impression Purdey and Gambit were going to take their assignments through me," he pointed out gently.

"They will," McKay confirmed, "but I wanted Gambit specifically for this assignment, and the sooner the two of them get to work, the better."

"They're an excellent team already," Steed commented.

"A little too fond of one another, though," McKay said grmily. "They've spent too much time together isolated from the realities of the job."

"Ah, the truth comes out," Steed said with a slight smile. "Two's company, and a dead man's the bucket of ice water?"

McKay made a noise between a snort and a chuckle. "It's for their own good. They'll be better agents for it."

"They're already well on their way as they are," Steed pointed out. "I know we're meant to keep a healthy distance, just in case, but even you can't claim to really subscribe to total impartiality. You know as well as I that friendship can be the greatest asset in this business. Certainly the most solid."

"Yes," McKay agreed. "But it's different with a man and a woman. Easier to get entangled."

"You're not trying to insinuate anything about my choice of partners, by any chance?"

"Wouldn't dream of it. You made excellent choices."

"And so have Purdey and Gambit. Don't worry, Tommy. They'll be all right. And I'll be keeping an eye on them," Steed assured. "But it's best not to guide unless they're really going to put their feet in it. Besides, I doubt there's much you could do to dampen their enthusiasm at the moment."

"The body might," McKay said knowingly. "It's Harlow. Gambit's been assigned to him a few times, hasn't he?"

Steed sucked his teeth, pondering this piece of information. "Yes."

"That'll have him thinking, at any rate," McKay murmured.

"A bit heavy-handed, even for you, Tommy," Steed chastised.

McKay actually sighed, finally. "I know," he murmured. "I would've chosen a gentler example, but Gambit knew Harlow better than most. Another one with a penchant for going off on his own. I thought he was the best choice."


	8. Sober Second Thought

Dance With Me

by J. Ferguson a.k.a. Timeless A-Peel

Gambit takes a partner. Purdey finds her rhythm.

Disclaimer: I don't own _The New Avengers,_ nor the characters of Steed, Gambit, and Purdey. They belong to The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. This story is written for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended.

Timeline: Third in a series. Takes place in late February/early March, 1976, ending with the pre-credits events of the episode "Gnaws." Pre-series, with "The Eagle's Nest" taking place in April, 1976. It is recommended, but not essential, that you go back and read "Aftermath" (now updated) before reading this story.

For more information about the series, please see my profile.

* * *

Purdey sat curled up on her bed, jacket tossed casually over a chair, fiddling absently with the collar of her turtleneck that topped off her matching tan tweedy skirt. Her mind was meant to be on the file spread out before her. All about Thornton, already dubbed 'the man who grows things' in her mind, and his stolen 'luminous watch' research. But every time she read the words, about how Edward Harlow had been the man conducting surveillance security over the scientist and his stolen materials, she saw the dead man lying on the ground, and felt the chill of spring through her clothes. But mostly she saw Gambit, looking drawn and grim. "I knew him slightly." That's what he had said, but Purdey thought he looked too grey and drawn for someone who had only passed the man in the hall. She'd been isolated from the job's grimmer details the past few months—the dead bodies, the chilled morgues, she wasn't used to those. Her brief foray into the field with Steed and Gambit in December had given her a taste, but not enough to weigh against all those months of training. And besides, the bodies didn't upset her as much as the implications. If the day came for her to stand by Gambit's body, would she feign distance, even if her face told a different story? Would Gambit do the same for her? She wasn't certain she could manage that level of control if Gambit met his end, certainly not after the past month. Their natural connection had been strengthened and nurtured to the point that it would be tantamount to suicide to sever it before heading out in the field, not to mention an end to their personal relationship. Besides, she didn't particularly want to lose the strange intimacy she had with Gambit. She didn't want to stop dancing…

But she could make certain there was that little bit of space between them, that she maintained that little step that would keep her from going over the line that she had felt herself toy with crossing on the course. She'd have to remember to keep dancing with him as a friend, not as a lover, no matter if her heart tried to convince her otherwise. Because she'd need it if something happened. She closed her eyes. _Please don't let it. Not another one. _But she could remember her father all too well, and how easy it was to lose someone in this business.

And she could remember Larry.

That was another reason for the space. But then again, she'd never danced much with Larry. He hadn't been good at it, hadn't enjoyed it. And he certainly hadn't been able to hold her so close without stepping over that line, as Gambit had. She could feel Mike's body to hers, now, remembered being at ease, unafraid, because she knew that if the time was right, he would let her lead, and if she wasn't ready, that he'd pick up the slack until she was.

Suddenly the turtleneck was too hot.

There was a knock at the door. Purdey was jerked from her reverie and only just managed to regain control over her voice to ask "Who is it?"

"It's me." Undeniably Gambit. Purdey swallowed hard and glanced down at herself to ensure she was still presentable, that her hands hadn't become Gambit's in her dream and taken on a life of their own.

"It's not locked," she called, not bothering to get up. She heard Gambit ease the door open, close it behind him, and she followed the rocking steps on their journey toward her. Mike appeared around the corner of her entryway, pushed the beaded curtain aside, smiled tiredly.

"Hi," he greeted, voice rough, likely from asking questions. She knew hers was from her visit to Thornton's office, and she'd left Gambit with Harlow's body. He'd probably been phoning around for leads in between checks to the morgue. Either way, the earlier buoyancy earned from their successful run had been chased away by shadows.

"Hi," she replied unimaginatively, dropping her eyes to the file when the blue-green ones became too much. Her mind was betraying her, whispering suggestions about where to seek comfort in uncertainty, ironically from the same source she was determined to refuse for the sake of her own sanity. She heard Gambit sigh, step inside—a careful step, one calculated to be as unthreatening as possible. He only needed the wall to lean against, Purdey realized when she looked back up, and she couldn't begrudge him that support.

"I hope you had better luck than I did," he murmured after a moment.

Purdey blinked. "Sorry, what?"

"Thornton," Gambit elaborated, pointing his chin at the file, still open in front of her on the bed. "Any connection between his missing research and Harlow's surveillance?"

"No," Purdey sighed, stretching her long legs out in front of her. "Thornton doesn't even seem particularly worried about what's gone missing. 'No more dangerous than the dial of a luminous watch,' was how he put it. I've tried, but I can't find a connection between Harlow and the robbery. There might not even be one."

"No," Gambit agreed, pushing away from the wall and strolling over to sit on the edge of her bed. "There might not." He rubbed his face. "I didn't find a damn thing, either. All I know is Harlow met up with someone who knew how to fight just as well or better than he did. Autopsy confirmed it was the one blow that killed him. He could've been after any one of their people and bitten off more than he could chew." He ran his fingers through the dark curls, and Purdey fought to keep her breathing even.

"You sound as though you knew him better than slightly," she prodded gently. "I mean, if you knew that he could handle himself in a fight."

Gambit shrugged. "We weren't best mates or anything, but we ran a few assignments together, and sometimes he was along when we went down the pub." He contemplated the other, more significant relation, debated how much he could tell Purdey without her asking more questions than already wanted to. "And we had a bit of a shared background. Both in the army at one point." _Both assassinating people when we should have been doing something else. _

"Really?" Purdey sounded interested. "I thought you were in the navy?"

"I was," Gambit said gruffly, in a voice that invited no further discussion. He didn't want to dwell on _that_ chapter of his past, not now. Didn't want to tell Purdey that he'd seen himself lying on the cold ground. Dead. Trained, capable of defending himself, killing with his bare hands, but dead nonetheless. All alone. With no one to notice until he was overdue for reporting in. Because Harlow liked to work alone. The way Gambit did. Or had. But he didn't have to, not anymore. There was Purdey now. And where there was Purdey, there'd be Steed. And those were two people he trusted enough to come running before he joined Harlow in the earth. He glanced up at the girl now, at the bright blue eyes that would see so much more than she could even contemplate, but would somehow find a way to shine on. Suddenly, Mike Gambit knew he was very, very lucky. Even if there wasn't another boat in his future, at least he wasn't alone.

"Let's go out," he suggested, leaning in so her eyes would meet his own.

Purdey frowned. "Now?"

"It's just gone seven," Gambit pointed out. "If we hurry we can have dinner. And then…"

Purdey crossed her arms expectantly. "If you say 'afters at my place,' I think I shall scream."

"You wound me," Gambit emoted melodramatically. "Although it's a good thought."

"Gambit…"

"It was dancing I had in mind," Mike added quickly. "We did say we were going to get around to it."

"In December," Purdey pointed out.

"Better late than never. We're not making any progress on the assignment—not tonight at any rate. And we still have to celebrate our run on the course today." His eyes were shining again, buoyed by the idea, and Purdey felt her own heart lift.

"No one's taken me dancing in a very long time," she said thoughtfully. "Most men aren't interested."

"Their loss," Gambit said appreciatively. "I can change and be back in half an hour."

"Twenty minutes," Purdey clarified, looking back down at her turtleneck and wooly skirt. "I think I'll find something a little more festive." She was already climbing off the bed and moving to her closet. "I hope you know some good restaurants. I'm starving."

"How does Italian sound?"

"Heavenly. As long as they don't skimp on the breadsticks," Purdey said from among her dresses.

"Nothing to fear on that end," Gambit said with a smile, standing himself. "I'll see you later."

"I'll be ready."

She was, too, in a knee-length light blue number that brought out her eyes, complete with a wrap to ward off the spring chill. He couldn't take his eyes off her all through dinner, but it wasn't just her face, but what she did with it, the way she laughed, and chatted, and brought the evening to life. And then, when they'd moved onto the club, he felt a flash of pleasure to be the one to take her someplace that made her eyes light up the way they did. Agent or not, she would always be a ballerina, and tonight, she needed a partner.

"Dance with me, Purdey-girl."

And she did.

End

* * *

Author's Notes: And then we get to the show. I figure by the end, they're literally a few weeks away from "Eagle's Nest." This story is meant to explain a few things. Firstly, Purdey and Gambit's obvious close connection, while Steed still doesn't know about Purdey's dancer's history. The course was a way to wangle it, and keep Steed out of the picture at the same time. Also explains why Gambit's little wake-up call provokes annoyance, but not shock, from Purdey—she's seen him do this before. And her threat about Mike's bed comes to fruition later in "Last of the Cybernauts."

Also, Purdey's ease with the assault course (and fatigueish outfit) from "Midas Touch" get some background. And if Purdey and Gambit have just spent a few weeks doing essentially nothing but work out, it explains all their little stunts in the early eps—Gambit jumping out the window in "Eagle's," the speedy sprint in "Midas," etc. And, of course, where they learned the 'party tricks' that will serve them so well in the future. This is where they really gel as a team—they dance together, they work together, they trust each other.

I've also dealt with the early bit of "Gnaws." It's a convenient reason for Purdey to step back from Gambit after a month of finding herself increasingly drawn to him for both their connection, and the purely physical aspect of working in very close proximity with an attractive guy who has to touch her a lot out of necessity. I doubt anyone's been that close to Purdey in a very long time. And considering Harlow's army background, it explains why Gambit is just so grim when he finds the body—he can see himself lying there all too well.

Also got George Radcliffe in. If Gambit was his partner in the course, it would explain why he's a bit tighter with him than most.

Purdey's "I'm dying. I'm coughing blood," are actually Joanna's own appeals to Cyd Child's mercy during Joanna and Gareth's infamous fitness course.

Life's poised to get pretty hectic for me, and this translates into less time for updates and fic. While I'm going to try and keep updating for as long and as regularly as I possibly can, expect a longer gap between chapters. Up 'til now I've been spacing them three or so days apart, and I don't think I'll be able to keep that up. This _does not_ mean that there's not going to be lots of updates in ther forseeable future. Keep your eyes peeled in the next week or so for an updated and relaunched version of "The Anniversary," followed by the next fic in the arc. Just keep in mind that I'm going to be trying to post one fic, edit another, and write a third, all in whatever spare time I'm lucky enough to have. But there's still lots of the arc to come, including a long adventure piece, in the future. Happy reading!


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